With Bare Hands
by sullencullens
Summary: I don't play sports- actually I'm kind of clumsy. When I catch I don't use a glove. There are no bats, balls, or bases. What I catch are your nightmares. What I catch are your dreams. Some may call me...a dream catcher."
1. Touchstones

**With Bare Hands**

Chapter 1: Touchstones

_"Dreams are the touchstones of our characters." - Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

Psychologists and philosophers have attempted to translate dreams for centuries. They've tried to understand why people dream. They want to know how people dream. They want to know what these dreams mean. They want to know how these dreams reflect our lives. They've tried their best to understand dreams and they say they know about them. They say they know about dreams. They _think_ they know.

These psychologists and philosophers have never met _me_ though.

People can dream about any emotion they're feeling while they sleep. People can dream about worry, stress, happiness– pretty much anything. Those dreams can be pleasant. Those dreams are usually the ones with no rhyme or reason. Those dreams are the ones that are bearable by any means… usually.

The only emotion that people can't dream about is _fear_. No, fear is reserved for _nightmares_. Fear is what instigates a nightmare. Nightmares are what have people waking up from sleep with blood _surging_ through their veins. Sometimes you wake up with drops of perspiration forming at your hairline and onto your forehead.

Have you ever had a dream? Have you ever had a nightmare?

You'd think that question to be rhetorical. You'd think that question to be pointless. Everyone has dreams, right? Everyone has had at least one nightmare, right?

_Wrong_.

There is something to be said about dreams and the dreamer, but is there something to be said about the one who doesn't dream? Is there something to be said about that person? Is there something to be said about _me_?

You see, I don't dream. I don't have nightmares. That is, I don't dream for myself. I haven't had a single nightmare that I can claim as my own. I cannot recall a time that I've ever dreamed, but I can probably recall almost every dream that my mother has dreamed in the past seventeen years. I can probably recall almost every nightmare that has belonged to my dad in that same time frame.

I call myself a _dreamcatcher_… but I also call myself Bella Swan, and I literally know what it's like to be… in your dreams.

* * *

What do you think?


	2. Scream

Chapter 2: Scream

"All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams." –Elias Canetti

I sat up in bed, my pulse racing, and my breathing labored. I was shaking slightly and my mouth was dry.

_Another_ miss.

But I was too late… _again_. Really, these night terrors had to stop. They were consuming my nights and flooding my senses. These past two weeks, I had been on edge. I was jumping at every sudden noise or movement. How on earth could a thirty some odd woman be having such constant night terrors? It made absolutely no sense to me.

What do I mean by being _late_? I mean, I had gotten to her nightmare after it had already started. In order for me to "catch" a nightmare, I have to get to it before it even starts. In this case, I had Biology homework to do and had fallen asleep too late. God forbid she stay up an extra twenty minutes. Now, I'll get down stairs and find a fairly frazzled woman at my kitchen table.

I would give anything to get just _one_ dream this week. For these reoccurring nightmares to end. I just want to be in some one's dream or in my hiding place. Today, during my free, I will Google the best remedies for getting rid of nightmares the "normal" way because I am way too tired of trying to catch these fuckers– especially the night terrors. I wouldn't mind a nightmare or two, but these _night terrors_ are the same thing _every_ night and they are usually violent. Once I'm in and haven't caught the terror, there is no way of getting out.

Whereas, nightmares are sparse and if I can't catch one, it will expire over night… like milk… just as an example.

Now, if I could just freaking catch _one_ of them, I'd be able get rid of them for good. No more reoccurrences and no more frazzled woman at my table.

"Mother fucker…," I whispered to myself as my head slammed back onto my pillow. I needed to think up a new strategy to catch this little shit.

I winced as my eyes took in the bright neon colors of my alarm clock. It was 6:44. One minute before my alarm would sound the high pitched noise that I mentally and physically cringed at every morning. Even if it wasn't morning and I heard my alarm, my heart would explode like it was getting jolted awake. I quickly turned off the alarm before it went off and the dreaded feeling of school coursed through me.

A new day, a new nightmare. Maybe today will bring a new dream. Fingers crossed.

I sat up in bed and slid my feet onto the creaky wooden floors beneath me. These floors were enough to induce plenty of nightmares on their own. Good thing that was impossible for me. You have no idea how many nights I've spent up, just listening to the whole house creak. But the creaking brought character to the house and I found myself missing it when sleeping over a friend's house.

My feet thudded lightly across the room as my fogged mind took in each creak and sound expected. I grabbed my favorite Twister towel from the towel rack outside the bathroom door and stepped into the bathroom with a yawn. The bathroom tiles weren't very cold in this fall weather. My feet could bare it. But that didn't stop me from wishing for the warmth of socks at that very minute.

I turned to the pale blue framed mirror hanging above the off white marble sink. My eyes were tired, but held some conviction in them. Probably from the little shit night terrors I was fairly determined to resolve. My long, brown hair came down in tangled waves to the center of my rib cage. My pale skin, derived from living under the constant cloud that is Forks, was flushed from the night terror. Though, there wasn't anything in the world that _couldn't_ make me blush it seemed. I smirked at my reflection quickly before turning around and starting my morning shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I was out of that shower, teeth clean, standing in front of my closet. The chill of fall was whipping at my exposed skin as I determined what was best to wear. My muscles were relaxed and my posture was, as it always was, slouched as I shifted my balance from one foot to the other.

What to wear, what to wear… Monday morning… A new week… What portrays that sense of a semi-fresh start? Well, it wasn't _too_ cold out (contrary to the little warmth this towel provided). I threw on a gray camisole and a gray, striped, see-through, long-sleeved shirt on top of that. One pair of skinny jeans and two gray Chuck Taylor converse-looking sneakers later and I was bounding down stairs.

I walked into the kitchen to find just as I had expected. Sitting down, sipping a mug of coffee and reading the newspaper was none other than my mother, otherwise known as Renee. And she was indeed a bit frazzled. I cleared my throat as I slipped into the chair across from her.

"Hey…," I greeted tentatively. She looked up at me and shrugged nonchalantly, her blue bathrobe slipping down her shoulder slightly. I looked down at my hands and frowned. "I was doing Biology homework and… well, yeah…," I explained in a tiny voice. It sounded loud in the quiet of the morning. She offered me a small smile.

"Its fine, Bella, I understand. I can't expect you to get _every _one," she offered. I kept my gaze fixed on the table top now.

"I know. It's just… been two weeks of this," I said in that same tiny voice. There was only so much one person could take. I looked up at her now.

"You're doing your best and that's all that I can ask for," she said, taking another sip of her coffee. Her reading glasses fogged up from the steam and I chuckled. "This is kind of embarrassing," she admitted. I shook my head, still chuckling, and checked my phone for the time. It was 7:35. I _should_ be leaving in about ten minutes. I'll _probably_ be leaving in about fifteen. I had a text from Alice.

**Please don't get here at the bell. I'd like to talk to you before school for once. **

I locked my phone and decided not to answer. I couldn't make any promises...

Both of us turned as we heard my dad come down the stairs. He was fully dressed in his head chief uniform and cleanly shaven. He stepped behind my mom's chair and rubbed her shoulders, covering them back up with the blue robe. "Good morning," he announced cheerfully. My eyebrows went up as I glanced back at my mom.

"I guess so…," I observed. He took a seat next to her as well as the sports section of the paper. Oh, some big game was on tonight. My father, or Charlie, was a dedicated sports fan. You sit him in front of a television and ESPN is on within twenty seconds. He'll watch any sport at all. You name it, he loves watching it. Curling, golf, football, soccer, basketball, track, swimming– he has his favorite teams for each, too. He'll even watch poker when it's on. I'll never understand such a devotion to every sport known to mankind. Sure, I like sports and I'll watch them once in a while, but that's nothing compared to my father's obsession.

I looked at my parents sitting together and smiled. They had been high school sweethearts before they got married and had me. The funny thing was that they did it in that order. They were married before getting pregnant. She was only a senior. One year older than I am. I couldn't even imagine myself pregnant and married in a year. But it worked for them and I wanted to have their kind of relationship with someone one day.

I checked my phone as it vibrated again… Alice.

**You better be in your car driving toward me right now.**

I checked the time. It was 7:45. Well, I might as well go. It should take me some time to get the truck started anyway. I stood up from the table, locked my phone without responding, and put it in my back pocket. My parents looked up at me.

"Well, I'm off," I told them, turning to grab a blueberry Poptart from the top cabinet. The foil caught the kitchen light as I turned to leave.

"Okay, have a good day," my mom said. "Grab a sweater! It might get chilly later!" she yelled after me. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

"I have one in the truck!" I yelled back, stepping out of the house and shutting the door behind me. _I don't have one in the truck._ It's fucking beautiful out for a fall day. Clouds were parted, letting the sun shine through. Yes, there were clouds, but that was to be expected.

Also as expected, it took me a few minutes to get Rojo Jojo started. My truck, otherwise known as Rojo Jojo, wasn't the nicest truck in the lot. It was old, rusty, and it made a lot of noise. But I loved it anyway. I love anything that I can make mine. That I can make unique to me. And I'm sure that no one I know has a car like Rojo Jojo.

A little less than ten minutes of driving and I was running late. The ground outside was damp from slight rainfall last night. So, my Chuck Taylors squeaked as I ran down the hall toward locker number 498. Why couldn't I just listen to Alice? I never did, and I was always on the verge of being late.

My grey locker came into sight as I rounded the far left corner of Building One. The squeaking ceased as I stopped to open my lock: 31-12-25. The door clattered open. A bright pink Post It note was stuck _right_ on the top shelf, where I usually put my binders. I could only guess who it was from.

**You are the worst friend in the world. I don't know why I talk to you. One day, I won't and you'll regret it. Anyway, I HAVE NEWS. If you were here to talk to me you'd know.**

**-Alice **

**P.S. What happened with Renee? **

I tossed her note on the bottom of my locker along with the rest of the obnoxiously bright Post It notes from her. There was a nice collection forming. I was a pretty terrible friend, I had to admit. I should learn to respond to her someday. Until then, I had homeroom to get to. Luckily, my homeroom was in Building Two, which was right across the Senior Lawn.

My shoes continued to squeak as I half ran-half jogged to homeroom along with all of the other late comers. It was refreshing to see that I wasn't the only one running late all the time. These people were here as frequently as I was. Every passing face was a familiar one.

Sunlight hit my face as I stepped onto the Senior Lawn, my feet carrying me as fast as my clumsiness would allow. I passed the newly painted benches and the Carving Trees fairly quickly before stepping back onto the concrete and into Building Two. What were the Carving Trees? They were trees that particularly love-struck seniors would carve their initials into. Normally, these initials were confined into a poorly carved heart or followed by some form of the word "forever". Did these relationships last? Probably not… but the carvings did.

My shoes squeaked and slipped as I jogged down the hall. There was a corner ahead that I needed to turn and then I'd be five steps away from homeroom. Unfortunately, jogging and slipping seemed to be the strongest relationship in my carving tree of life. Just as I turned the corner, my right foot landed on the floor and swerved to the left, screwing with my balance.

"Mother of Pearl!" I yelled, aggravated, as my butt landed on the floor with a thud and a smack. I just gave up then, letting my head fall to the floor softly and my eyes close. There were people talking and chuckling around me, but I didn't care. I just let my body rest without the possibility of night terrors. It was actually pretty nice… until I realized that I was lying in the middle of the hallway. I heard someone clear their throat above me. I kept my eyes shut.

"Do you… need help?" a familiar voice asked me. I smirked and folded my hands behind my head. I waft of freshly cut grass came my way from the door opening and closing.

"I need a lot more help than you can offer me, kid," I replied, still smirking. I heard him shuffle his feet.

"Get your ass off the floor before get my girlfriend to do it," he said, his voice much closer than before. My eyes popped open to reveal Emmett squatting at my side. "She and Alice are annoyed at you, you know. You're going to be late. Get up," he said, taking my upper arms and lifting me up to stand on my feet. _Yeah_, he's diesel like that.

_Emmett McCarty_: one of my best friends. Granted he was a year older than I, he was also Alice's brother and a fantastic wrestler. His enormous build and curly brown hair made him adorable and it was no wonder he bagged a girl like Rosalie. He dreamed about her frequently, too. Yeah, tell me about it.

"You're going to be late, too," I remarked, brushing various dirt and lint off of myself. Emmett began to brush and coincidentally rubbed dirt off of my ass. I backed away and punched his arm. His muscles flexed as a reaction. "You ass! You have a girlfriend! My best friend, might I add, is said girlfriend," I reproached. He smirked innocently and shrugged.

"Oh, come on," he sighed, putting his arm around my shoulders. "I was just helping you. You're like my sister. Don't act like things are any different," he clarified. I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms, shrugging his arm off of me. He was right, but I liked busting his balls. We were at the door of my homeroom now. "And _I_, unlike you, have a hall pass for the bathroom. Have fun being late," he called to me as he walked away and the bell rang. I stared after him for a few seconds before stepping into homeroom. Destination reached.

"You're late again, Miss Swan," Mr. Banner remarked as I made my way to my back-of-the-class desk. I looked at him incredulously, silently questioning his sanity. His glasses were pin straight like his tie. His white, button-down shirt sleeves were rolled precisely to his elbows and neatly tucked into his black dress pants. Yes, he was _that_ kind of teacher– martinet structure and all.

"Mister Banner, I was _right_ outside the door! You saw me! I could probably gather _at least_ a baker's dozen witnesses!" I defended wholly. His eyes glinted with the light reflecting off of his glasses. He stared straight at me, not bothering to glance around the classroom at all of the students who began to defend my case. I knew what was coming next and glared at him like it was my job.

"You're late. I'm sure you know the whereabouts of the detention room," he stated with an air of finality, filling out a blue detention slip. "An hour of detention awaits you this afternoon," he said, holding out the slip in my direction. I didn't move. He sighed and wrote something else on the slip. "Tyler, please hand this to Isabella. _Two_ hours of detention now await you, Miss Swan." Tyler handed me the slip. "Try and be on _time_," he sarcastically retorted. He made me want to punch a baby. If I could haunt his dreams, I would. I would do it in a fucking heartbeat.

Within seconds, the usual people were crowding around me. I rolled my eyes and shoved the blue slip into my pocket, taking a seat at my desk.

"Wow, what an asshole," Jessica muttered, taking a seat on my desk. I shrugged and bit my bottom lip.

_Jessica Stanley_: gossiper extraordinaire and friend. Well, more like an acquaintance. It depended on who you asked. Be on her good side and you won't have to worry about pregnancy rumors floating around about you. Be on her bad side and suffer the social consequences. Luckily, I was on her good side. She adored me.

I'd seen myself in a few of her dreams. Mostly she dreamed about school and gossip. Sometimes the gossip was about her.

"Whatever. It's to be expected. I'm always running late. Today was just one of those days I guess," I mumbled, playing with my silver dream catcher necklace. Renee had given it to me as a little joke. She didn't understand how much it really meant to me.

"Why are you always running late, anyway?" Mike asked, bringing over a chair and sitting in it backwards. I shrugged yet again.

_Mike Newton_: stalker and boyfriend to said Jessica Stanley. He's had a crush on me since seventh grade when I asked him what the math homework was as he passed me in the grocery store. I couldn't reciprocate the feelings and he moved on to Jessica. They were actually pretty perfect together, considering their mutual love for me. No, really, they were cute together. They won an award for that last year. Precious.

One time I had caught Mike dreaming about me. Only once, but still. It wasn't anything… sexual or bad. He was just dreaming about sitting with me at lunch. It was so odd. After that, I really didn't visit Mike's dreams often.

"I was literally outside the door. I wasn't late. Mr. Banner is just a d-bag," I told him, letting my reasons for lateness to their imaginations. There really wasn't anything interesting to my lateness. It was really just part of my nature. I was terrible at keeping track of time most days.

"D-bag supreme," Eric muttered. We all looked over at him. Silence took over our group.

"Never ever again, Eric," Angela whispered, shaking her head. We all started laughing while Eric chuckled, keeping his head down as his face turned bright red.

_Eric Yorkie and Angela Webber_: The couple that should've won that award for cutest couple. Eric was kind of a nerd, but so was Angela. They complimented each other nicely. Angela took pictures, Eric digitally enhanced them. Nerdy as they were, everybody liked them because they were the nicest people. I don't think I could recall a time when Angela gibed anyone. And Eric was right there with her. I was glad to be friends with them.

I felt that intruding their dreams would be wrong. They never intruded anything, so I feel the need to reciprocate.

Everybody then broke off into different conversations. I sat and listened and watched. Though I loved these people and they were my friends, they weren't my main group of friends. So, I kind of felt out of the loop a tad bit because they were all best friends. I noticed that Tyler wasn't talking either. Everybody was talking to their significant other, while Tyler and I were just sitting around.

I really didn't know Tyler too well. He hung around us, but he hardly ever talked. He played basketball and worked at his father's tire shop, but that's all I really knew about him. He didn't partake in any gossip and I never heard him _in_ any gossip, yet he was always just _there_, hanging around people like it was so natural for him even if he didn't talk.

I didn't really realize that I was staring at him until he lifted his lips into a very small smile and waved tentatively. I blinked my eyes several times from being in one of those dazes and offered him a smile and a wave as well.

The bell rang and Jessica was at my side instantly. "Aw, you love him don't you?" she mocked. I looked over to where Tyler had been just a minute ago. He was gone already. We strolled out of homeroom and around the corner to Trigonometry. We were at the door in less than a minute. Today, my classes revolved around Building One and Building Two only.

"Oh, yes, because I wave at a friend, we are automatically dating," I answered dryly. It was her nature to ask questions like that; to get the scoop on everything to do with the junior class. Again, I took my seat in the back of the classroom. "S" was a letter in the alphabet that had its perks. Jessica _S_tanley took her seat next to mine.

"We'll see," she said simply, letting the subject drop. That was actually kind of interesting. She never let anything drop. Before I could ask, Mr. Molina began class. I sat and listened to him drone on about an upcoming test.

Before I knew it, it was time for second period. Various people met me at the door, greeted me with "Swan!" or other nicknames, and we walked to Spanish.

People obviously knew me. I was the Chief of Police's daughter, and that was _not_ something that could make you known... or liked. So, I _made_ myself known and liked. I was a people person. I liked to make people laugh. And as I made friends with other "popular" people, it was easy to get known. The only difference between the popular people and me was that I talked to other "unpopular" people. I talked to anyone that would listen. So hearing my name being yelled in the halls wasn't a surprising feat. It happened very frequently.

Third period passed without err, then fourth period. The bell rang, signaling the end of fifth period and the start of lunch. Again, Jessica met me at the door.

"How was your day… after Trig, that is?" she asked. I nodded at Mary Dalton passing by and waved at Thomas Bigger. I put my head down after that to avoid having to keep doing that.

"It was… uneventful," I answered lamely. Nothing happened at all. Tests, projects, homework.

"Well, guess what I heard during Biology with Angela?" she asked, her eyes wide and her hands flailing. I expressed interest and she began to tell me _all_ about how Kate Denali and her sister, Tanya, mixed up their twin boyfriends. I was listening, but faintly.

Suddenly, I felt something against my right arm, kind of like someone brushing past me. It wasn't a bad feeling at all. It was sort of like an extreme shock, but it was also like a vibration and a prickling of sorts. I looked up quickly to find out who or what it was and saw a few candidates.

One of them was Eric, another was Miss Goff, and the other was a kid I didn't recognize. He had reddish-bronze hair from what I could see, which was the back of his head. I was pretty sure I knew that it was mystery kid because he turned around and glanced at me quickly, feeling up and down his left arm. I touched my arm and looked down at it curiously.

"Hey," Jessica whispered, bending her head in towards me. "That's the new kid," she continued, pointing at mystery kid. I looked in front of me at him, still holding my arm… he was, too. My brows furrowed quickly and I racked my brain for any mention by Alice of a new kid. Nothing.

"New kid?" I asked quickly, as we stepped outside toward Building One and the cafeteria. She nodded quickly, in her prime.

"Yeah, I thought you knew about him. He's Jasper's cousin," she explained. I was instantly annoyed. If this kid had anything to do with Jasper, his girlfriend, _Alice_, would know. Why I was not informed of this, I do not know. I shook my head no and she continued. "He's from Chicago?" she said uncertainly. "Apparently, he and his father came to live closer to Jasper and his mom. Well, that's the story." I nodded and sighed as we entered Building One. "Honestly, I think there's more to it. We'll find out in time," she said mischievously. "See you later," she announced, separating from me and joining her lunch table in the cafeteria.

I made a beeline for my lunch table, which consisted of Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, and me. Why hadn't anyone told me about this? And how long had they kept it from me? But, most importantly, _why_ had they kept it from me?

By the time I reached out table, everyone was already sitting there. I stood at the dead of the table, put my bag on the table top, and glared at each and every one of them. Alice glared back.

"Maybe you should get to school earlier," she said coldly, letting her gaze slide down to her chicken salad sandwich.

_Alice Brandon_: my best friend. Today, she was clad in light gray skinny jeans, a black off-the-shoulder shirt, and a pair of wool Ugg boots. This girl was the most amazing shopper. It could be a sport for her. She loved to dress people up and throw parties. Currently, and probably indefinitely, she was dating Jasper Hale.

"Fucking puta," I sighed and let my glare up, fully intending to ask all of the questions that I had thought of previously. I looked at Jasper. "Now, Jasper, would you mind telling me about this cousin of yours?" I asked politely. Jasper looked behind me.

"Why don't you ask him for yourself?" he said with a grin on his face. "Edward!" he called, throwing his hand in the air and urging somebody behind me to our table. I turned my head around and instantly spotted this new kid.

Yes, his hair was reddish-bronze. That was for sure. His glorious body walked toward our table hesitantly and I began to see his features clearly. I stared at him curiously. I didn't know how to perceive such a beautiful man. He was increasingly hot with each step he took toward me. Finally, he stopped at the head of the table, right next to me. He finally looked over at me and his eyebrows shot up. His eyes glanced at my arm. I turned to Jasper, expectantly.

"Edward, this is Bella. Bella, this is Edward," he said almost proudly, grinning at Alice.

"Hi, I'm Edward Cullen," the new kid introduced himself as. I smiled widely.

"Bella Swan," I reciprocated warmly.

Edward held his hand out hesitantly and I looked at it. After a moment of awkwardness, I cautiously took his hand in mine. That feeling of warmth and vibration and shock engulfed my hand. We let go quickly, not sure how to perceive the feeling or each other.

"Sit over here, Cullen," Emmett called, waving him over to the other side of the table. He turned around and moved to sit next to Emmett.

I looked at Alice and she grinned widely.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing… just, nothing," she answered cryptically.

*******A/N****: **

**Tell us what you think, please.**

**Points to those who know:**

**What Bella's locker number is.**

**AND**

**Who Bella waved/nodded at in the hall when talking to Jess. **

**Until next time, little monsters. **

**-E & W **

***P.S. http: // www . polyvore .com / cgi / profile?id=1440146 (minus the spaces: for outfits, et cetra)**


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